


Where There's Smoke

by saltnhalo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bookstore Owner Castiel (Supernatural), Firefighter Dean Winchester, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 16:58:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18553948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltnhalo/pseuds/saltnhalo
Summary: When Castiel accidentally locks his keys in his car on a miserable, rainy night, a handsome, green-eyed firefighter comes to his rescue. Despite their initial spark, it takes a few tries before they can turn it into something more...





	Where There's Smoke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rocksaltandhoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocksaltandhoney/gifts).



> This fic was commissioned by [blueeyesandpie](http://blueeyesandpie.tumblr.com) in the Fandom Trumps Hate auction as a gift for [rocksaltandhoney](http://rocksaltandhoney.tumblr.com). It's a bit of a fluffy mishmash, but I hope you like it, Morgan!
> 
> Thank you to [Mal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalMuses/pseuds/MalMuses), [captainhaterade](http://captainhaterade.tumblr.com) and insominia for your beta work.

The first time Castiel meets Dean Winchester, it’s pouring down rain, and he’s managed to lock his keys inside his car.

This late at night, all he wants to do is head home and watch Netflix on the couch with his cat. The delivery of stock he’d received in the late afternoon still needs to be counted and affixed with price stickers, which means that it has to come home with him. He grunts as he hefts the heavy box onto his hip and carries it awkwardly over to the door, stretching his fingertips up to the light switches. His shop plunges into darkness, lit only by the light of the streetlamps and dimmed by the rain that is falling steadily against the pavement outside.

 _Of course it’s raining_ , he thinks, grumbling under his breath as he stares through the glass door to where his car is parked, at least twenty feet away. There’s a small awning on the front of his shop that Cas uses to shield himself from the rain while he locks up, but the cold air bites at his exposed skin and he can feel some of the rain droplets sneaking beneath the collar of his jacket.

He’s going to have to make a run for it.

When he turns, the his face is misted with the same spray—droplets falling so thick and fast outside the awning that it’s impossible to stay dry even here. _Three_ , he counts in his head. _Two… One_.

He runs, box clutched awkwardly beneath his arm, and thanks every god that’s out there that the books are plastic-wrapped beneath the cardboard. Cas has his keys ready before he even reaches his car, but in the darkness and the rain, it’s hard to see what he’s doing. He swears as his key scrapes against metal, trying to find the lock for his trunk.

When it catches, Castiel is quick to shove it all the way in and turn, popping his trunk while trying not to soak the interior in the meantime. The box is shoved in in a hasty, clumsy mess of limbs, and then he’s quick to slam the trunk shut. The books are safe—and now it’s his turn to get the hell out of the rain before it soaks him all the way down to his skin.

Except for the fact that his car keys are no longer in his hands.

They’re also not still in the lock to his trunk, or any of his pockets, or in his bag. Castiel checks every single spot, to no avail. They’re nowhere to be found on the ground, either, and it’s with a sinking feeling that Castiel realizes… he’s locked his keys in the trunk of his car and has, in the process, well and truly fucked himself.

He can’t go home, and he can’t let himself back into the shop, because all the keys he might need for either of those are currently unreachable. At least he has his phone, though—things could be worse, as much as standing out here in the pouring rain well and truly sucks.

Thankfully, he has connections.

He retreats back to the relative shelter of the awning and tries not to shiver from the chill of his saturated clothes as he pulls his phone out of his bag. Inias (his closest friend and the reason he moved to this town a month ago in the first place) should be at work right now, and it’s his number that Cas dials with frozen fingers. “Pick up, pick up,” he mutters as he holds the phone up to his ear.

It rings once, twice, and then Inias picks up. “Cas, what’s up?”

Fuck, this is embarrassing. “Don’t laugh at me,” Castiel warns, before he says anything else. “It’s been a long day and this is not how I wanted it to end. I’d give anything to be at home right now, but instead I’m outside the shop, in the fucking rain, and my keys are locked in the trunk. Can you come out and save me, please?”

For a long few moments, the other end of the line is silent. When Inias speaks again, his voice sounds strained—as if he is, Castiel guesses, trying very hard not to laugh. “That’s quite the predicament,” he says, and there’s a definite tone of amusement to his words. “We don’t really do locked cars any more, that’s the AAA’s job, but I’ll make an exception for you.” He pauses. “Or, at least, I would, if I weren’t buried in paperwork from the house fire we dealt with yesterday. _But_ ,” he adds, before Castiel can start to beg or bribe him into coming out, “I can see if anyone can be spared and I’ll send them to help. You said you were at the shop, right? The station’s close, so you shouldn’t be waiting too long.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Castiel tells him, honestly and earnestly. He doesn’t know how long he would have had to wait for AAA to come and bail him out, but he suspects that it would be more than long enough for him to lose all feeling in his extremities. He’s already well on his way.

“I know,” Inias says, sounding more than a little smug about it. “Hold tight, and I’ll send someone over, okay?”

“Will do.”

True to Inias’s word, Castiel is only waiting about ten minutes before his knight in shining armor turns up.

Or, more accurately, his knight in a big, red firetruck.

Thank god that all the sane people are currently at home and out of the rain, and there’s no one around to see Castiel’s embarrassment at having to be rescued by the fire department. His cheeks burn as the truck pulls up into the empty lot a few spaces away from his car. A man jumps out of the drivers’ side, the hood of his waterproof jacket pulled over his head to protect him from the rain. Initially, he’s shrouded in shadows and rain, but as he approaches, Castiel can make out his wide smile, the bowlegged swagger in his gait, the greenness of his eyes beneath the hood.

It wasn’t enough to have to be rescued by a firefighter, but a drop-dead gorgeous one, as well? Inias is doing this to fuck with him, surely.

“You Cas?” the man asks once he’s only a few feet away, head tilted to the side. Even his voice is incredible—deep and rich and with just enough of a drawl to send a shiver down Castiel’s spine.

“That would be me,” he sighs, reaching a hand out from under the protective umbrella of the awning. He’s already soaked, it can’t do him any more harm.

The firefighter takes his hand and shakes it, his skin warm even despite the rain. “Nice to meet you,” he says, “I’m Dean. Inias said you’re locked outta your car?”

Castiel just nods dejectedly. “Sorry to call you out for something so stupid,” he apologizes, because he’s sure that _Dean_ has more important things to do with his night, but instead he’s here, dealing with Cas’s stupidity.

Dean, though, saint that he is, just waves his hand dismissively. “It’s no trouble,” he says, “it’s been a quiet night. I don’t have to sit around being bored, _and_ I get to help a cute guy?” The smile he gives Castiel is soft but still dazzling. “Win-win.”

The blush on Castiel’s cheeks is burning even hotter now, but before he can even _begin_ trying to formulate some kind of reply, Dean is already turning away, pulling a few tools from the pocket of his fire department-issued jacket and making his way over to Cas’s car. It’s incredibly difficult to keep his eyes fixed on appropriate areas when Dean bends down to inspect the lock on his trunk, then selects his tool and gets to work.

It’s barely a minute before he manages to pop the trunk, turning to give Cas a victorious smile over his shoulder before he retrieves the keys and closes it once more.

“How did you do that so quickly?” Castiel asks as Dean returns to the shelter of the awning with keys in hand, a little in awe of the ease with which Dean had solved the issue.

All he gets in return is a roguish smile and a one-shouldered shrug. “Misspent youth,” he says devilishly, then hands the keys back to Castiel. He’s probably imagining the way Dean’s fingers brush over his skin—the way it could _almost_ be construed as deliberate. “You should be good to go now,” Dean says, and Castiel’s eyes flick up to meet his.

For a moment, they stand there—Dean beneath the open, flooded sky, and Cas just within the awning, but still spattered by the raindrops that bounce off Dean’s jacket. “Thank you,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say, a little too lost for words.

Dean’s smile softens. “Any time,” he says, in a way that shivers beneath Castiel’s skin. “Maybe try not to lock your keys in the trunk for a little while, though. From how much shit Inias gives us back at the station, I highly doubt that he won’t tease you for it. If you ever do, though,” and here, he winks, green eyes bright against the dull grey-blue of their surroundings, of rain and concrete and shadows of night, “you can always give me a call.”

And then he turns and walks away, into the pouring rain, and he waves once at Castiel before he climbs into the firetruck.

Castiel stands beneath the awning until he disappears out of sight, and then a while longer, until the cold creeps into his bones and he drags himself away from thoughts of green eyes and warm hands.

~

The thoughts return that night, while he’s showering away the chill of the evening. He closes his eyes, remembers the way Dean had touched him, had smiled that smile that was so easy and so electric at the same time. One meeting, the two of them in a parking lot in the pouring rain, and that’s it for Castiel. He’s gone.

He’s even more gone when he finally gives in and touches himself, head tipped back out of the spray, so hot that it almost scalds his skin.

When he comes, it’s with a gasped-out breath that could very easily be Dean’s name.

~

The next time Castiel and Inias catch up—which is only four days later, Castiel doesn’t exactly have that many friends in this town yet—they get drinks at the local bar, and Inias asks about that night no fewer than ten times. Some of his comments are teasing, asking if he’s locked his keys in his car again since then, or if he’s keeping them attached to him on a bungee cord from now on.

Some of his comments are also about Dean.

Castiel tries to evade them as best he can, since Dean has been on his mind ever since that night, and he’s still no closer to figuring out what his next move should be. Dean had been flirting, surely, with the smiles and the winks and the casual brushing of fingers. But should Castiel pursue him? Is it weird to get his number from Inias? If he does, he’ll surely be hearing about it for years to come.

And what if Dean hadn’t been flirting after all? It’s a risk he’s not willing to take right now, even if thoughts of the green-eyed firefighter have been taking up every single one of his waking moments since that night.

After a little while, Inias seems to get the message, and he backs off—though only a little. He wouldn’t be Castiel’s best friend without some good-natured ribbing, after all.

When Inias casually offers to give Castiel Dean’s number at the end of the night, Castiel says no.

~

The second time he meets Dean Winchester is another complete accident.

Castiel’s cat, Eyas, has been and always will be an indoor cat. He’s fond of falling asleep on laps and heaters and beneath the covers of Castiel’s bed where he can bite Cas’s toes in the morning, and starts to complain thirty minutes before his dinner time every day like clockwork.

Eyas is also not a fan of loud noises, so when Castiel lets himself into his house and a strong gust of wind slams the door at the other end of the hallway shut, the cat that had been patiently waiting by the door becomes a grey blur that rockets past Castiel’s feet and out of the house.

“No!” Castiel shouts, but by that point, it’s far too late. He can only watch in despair as Eyas sprints across the lawn and scales the old oak tree in the middle, only coming to a stop when he’s perched on a branch that’s a good twenty-five feet off the ground. Amber eyes blink at Castiel from amongst the leaves, and Cas resists the urge to swear a blue streak at the turn his afternoon has taken.

He tries everything, calling to Eyas, trying to coax him down with food and cat toys and even the bag of catnip that he saves for special occasions. No dice. The ladder he keeps in his garage is only ten feet tall, so if he can’t coax Eyas down, then there’s no getting him down off the branch.

Which only really gives him one option.

“I didn’t realize that we actually got called to rescue cats from trees these days.”

It’s Dean. Of course it’s Dean.

He’s decked out in the proper gear now—dark pants with high-vis stripes around the bottoms, solid boots, a black t-shirt with the fire department logo on it—and Castiel hadn’t realized that he had a thing for uniforms until now. Of course, it’s also possible that he just has a thing for _Dean_.

“Just trying to keep you on your toes,” he replies, somewhat wryly. It has, again, been a long fucking day. “Remind you firefighters of your cat-rescuing roots and the like.”

Dean laughs, the sound bright and pleased. “I appreciate it, Cas,” he says with a grin. “Someone’s gotta keep us humble, after all. So where is the little guy?”

Wordlessly, Castiel turns and points up into the tree, where Eyas is still watching them. Dean gives a low whistle. “He’s really up there, huh? Ballsy little dude. What’s his name?”

“Eyas,” Castiel tells him, then elaborates when Dean raises his eyebrows quizzically. “It’s the name for a baby hawk. When I got him as a kitten, he was all gangly legs and huge eyes, and he used to just watch me whenever I would eat, like a weirdo.”

“Makes sense,” Dean muses, the corners of his mouth curled up into a smile. “Alright then, let’s get your little hawk down.”

Dean’s ladder is far longer than Castiel’s, and so it proves relatively easy for him to climb all the way up to where Eyas is hiding. As Cas watches from the ground, he can see that his cat is somewhat reluctant to trust Dean, but as soon as the treats Castiel had given him are presented, Eyas very quickly changes his tune. He snuggles against Dean’s chest as the firefighter descends the ladder with one arm, quite content with the way his adventure has played out.

“Here you go,” Dean says as he gently pries Eyas away from his chest and hands him over to Castiel. Big amber eyes blink up at him, then close again as he curls up in Castiel’s arms.

“Yes, you’ve had a very trying day,” Castiel mutters sarcastically under his breath, but he can’t help but give him a little scratch beneath his ear—of all the things that could have happened, him getting stuck up in a tree is the very least of Cas’s worries. “Thank you, Dean,” he says, directing his focus away from the cat and back towards the very gorgeous firefighter who has (embarrassingly) come to his aid today. “I wouldn’t have been able to get him down without you.”

Dean shrugs casually and waves a hand. “It’s no big deal. Bit of a welcome change. Besides, I’d been hoping I might run into you again soon, even if it was just to check that you hadn’t caught pneumonia after that night in the rain.” He grins teasingly and tilts his head towards Cas. “Which, I’m guessing, you haven’t. You, ah… you look pretty good to me.”

Is that a blush on Dean’s cheeks? It may well just be a trick of the light—Castiel forces his gaze away and tries to focus on tamping down the flustered feelings welling up in his chest. “I, um—yes, I’m fine. I was a bit cold, but no lasting effects. Thank you for that—I suppose that means that you’ve saved my bacon, so to speak, twice now.” He can’t help the words that come out next, or the more than slightly suggestive tone to them when he says, ”I guess I owe you one.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up, but before Castiel can start to second-guess his flirtation too badly, his lips curl up into a grin. “I guess you do,” he says, but before he can go any further, his lips already half-shaping his next words—

The radio on his belt crackles to life.

It seems to snap him back into work mode once more, and Castiel watches him go from flirtatious to crestfallen to serious in the span of a few moments. “Sorry, Cas,” he says apologetically, and his lips twist into a rueful expression. “Duty calls, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you around, though, right?”

His quick, cheeky grin is contagious, and Castiel feels himself smile in response. “Of course, Dean. I’ll see you around.” Hopefully sooner rather than later, because the more time he spends with Dean, the more he wants to get to know the handsome, charming firefighter.

It doesn’t look like Dean wants to return to his firetruck, but he does anyway, jogging back over and hoisting himself up into the cabin in a way that makes his biceps flex and Castiel weak at the knees. He waves goodbye through the windshield, and Castiel lifts his hand in return, smiling.

When Dean finally drives away, he leaves Cas with a cat in his arms and a whole lot of unanswered questions circling around and around in his head.

~

This time, Castiel thinks about asking Inias for Dean’s number. He thinks until he’s thought himself around in circles, and then he thinks some more. In the end, he decides against it. Next time he meets Dean, though, he’s going to ask.

He _needs_ to ask.

~

The third time Castiel meets Dean, he’s a little more prepared.

It’s Inias’s birthday, and they’ve gone out for drinks with a few of his friends and a lot of his coworkers. Cas closed the bookstore early so that he could be here, and so far, he’s enjoying meeting Inias’s friends from the fire station and around town. Having only been here for a month or two, he hasn’t had much of a chance to socialize, so with a beer in his hand and dressed in his nicest clothes (that he had _not_ chosen specifically to impress Dean, like Inias had teased him about), he does just that.

It’s a good night for him—relaxed, laid back, and fun.

And then Dean arrives.

Castiel has been anticipating this moment since he first turned up at the bar. Dean had promised Inias that he’d be here, so it was only a matter of time until he actually showed, and now that he has, it’s all Cas can do to keep from outright staring at him.

Unlike the two times Castiel has seen him in uniform, tonight he’s wearing his own clothes and good _god_ , does he look fucking irresistible. The sleeves of his button-down are rolled up to his elbows, and from what Castiel can glimpse from across the room, his dark-washed jeans hug his thighs and his ass spectacularly.

The thing that gets Cas most of all, however, is the way that Dean’s face lights up into a grin when they make eye contact across the group of Inias’s friends. He lifts his hand in a wave, which Castiel mirrors, struck a little dumb by just how excited Dean is to see him.

They must end up gravitating towards each other, because Castiel is casually trying to make his way through the crowd (with no particular destination in mind, not at all) when he sidles between two chatting people and comes face to face with Dean.

The firefighter grins again, seemingly surprised but happy that Cas has popped up right in front of him. “Hey, Cas! How are you doing, man? Inias said you’d be here tonight.”

If Castiel had thought that Dean had looked spectacular from a distance, he looks even fucking better up close. He has to take a sip of his beer first to compose himself, and makes the mental note that he might have to switch to something stronger pretty soon if he’s going to be able to make any kind of smooth conversation with Dean tonight. “I’m good, thank you,” he says, meeting Dean’s eyes once more and giving him an amused smile. “I haven’t locked my keys anywhere or lost my cat recently, if that’s what you were wondering. And yes, I’m here under threat of death from Inias; since I’m one of his oldest friends, I am definitely not allowed to skip this party.”

Dean laughs, and his eyes shine in the dimmed lights of the bar. “Ah, that explains it, then. You didn’t seem much of the partying type when we met, but I’ve been wrong before.”

“A bookstore owner, not a big partier? Wherever did you get that idea?” Cas muses wryly, but he smiles to let Dean know that he’s joking. “On the right occasion, I’ve been known to get a bit ‘wild,’ as Inias would say, but I’m generally happier with a quiet night in.”

Dean raises one eyebrow and leans closer—close enough for Castiel to smell hints of his aftershave, and it is really not fair that he smells as good as he looks tonight. “Oh, really?” His lips are much closer now, the two of them leaning in to be heard over the chatter of the crowd and the sound of the music that’s playing throughout the bar. “So is tonight a wild night, or will you be heading home early to Eyas and your books?”

Dean remembers his cat’s name. It’s a tiny detail, but it strikes a chord within Castiel, sends his heart racing just a little faster. His lips are curled up, a soft half-smile, and it’s so easy to get lost in him that it’s almost scary. This is only his third time meeting the guy.

“We’ll have to find out,” he says, much more coyly than he’s feeling right now, so inwardly flustered by such a beautiful, considerate man.

It’s flirtatious, it was _meant_ to keep Dean interested and broadcast the fact that Cas is feeling the same, but he’s still not prepared for the way Dean’s eyes darken, the drag of his teeth over his bottom lip. “We will,” he confirms, so close now that it’s hard not to be mesmerized by the shapes his lips form. His voice is quiet—entrancing.

“Can I get you a drink?”

~

Castiel finds out a lot about Dean. They settle against a wall somewhere, away from the majority of the party, shoulders propped against the concrete and eyes only for each other. He learns that Dean has wanted to be a firefighter all his life. He learns that Dean is an avid fan of Vonnegut, as well as sci-fi books and, really, a broad range of others. He learns that the corners of Dean’s eyes crinkle when he laughs.

Dean swaps to water partway through the night, because he has to drive home and his shift starts early tomorrow, but Castiel keeps drinking. He finds that it helps him to loosen up, to be more relaxed while he’s talking to such a gorgeous man. He doesn’t second-guess himself or over-analyze their conversation—just lets it happen.

They end up quite close, only a couple of inches separating them as they talk, and it’s hard to focus on anything that’s not Dean. Their little secluded spot is quieter now, with more people having joined the dance floor as they get progressively more drunk, but Castiel is quite happy staying here with Dean.

“How are you doing, Cas?” Dean asks, spinning his glass of water idly in his hand. The corners of his eyes are crinkled, have been for a little while now, and he seems totally focused on their conversation. It makes Castiel really want to kiss him.

“I’m good,” he says, giving Dean a sarcastically flourished bow to demonstrate just how _fine_ he is. The world tips for a second, and then Dean’s hand is on his bicep, steadying him. He’s laughing, too, a beautiful, full sound that is too much for Castiel’s drunk heart to handle.

“Sure you are, buddy.” Dean holds him until he’s steady, and can keep his balance by himself once more, and then lets go. Immediately, Castiel misses the warmth of his hand. “We might switch you to water from now on, okay?”

The suggestion is fair enough, if he’s starting to lose some of his fine motor skills. He can feel the attraction between them, too, enough to drive him crazy, and he really wants to be sober enough to remember if anything happens between them (although not so sober that he’s an awkward, fumbling mess, which would be entirely possible without the whiskey he’s been drinking tonight).

“Mmkay,” he grumbles, but sways closer to Dean to show him that he’s not _actually_ grumpy. Dean chuckles and catches him with a hand on each shoulder, muttering something like “God, you’re cute,” before his gaze focuses on Cas’s left cheekbone. “Hey, hold still,” he says, and before Castiel can react, his hand is coming up to cup his cheek, thumb swiping gently over his skin.

Dean’s touch is warm and electric, and Castiel’s breath hitches in his chest. His lips suddenly feel too dry, and Dean’s gaze dips down when he slides out a tongue to wet them, then returns to Cas’s eyes. There’s no space between them now, and Dean _radiates_ heat. Castiel braces his hands against Dean’s chest just to keep himself from getting knocked off balance by it all.

“Eyelash,” Dean explains quietly, and then he’s tilting his head and closing the distance between them, his lips pressing against Castiel’s in a kiss that is soft and chaste and still somehow sends shivers up Cas’s spine.

 _He’s kissing Dean_.

It’s perfect, and over entirely too quickly when Dean pulls back after a few seconds, a brightness to his eyes and his mouth curved up into a soft smile. “Was that okay?” he whispers, and Castiel can only nod, far too tongue-tied to be able to formulate a response, even with the help of the whiskey. “Good,” says Dean, and then he’s leaning in again, his eyes sliding closed, and—

“Speech! Cas, make a speech!”

Fucking. Inias.

Castiel pulls away, albeit reluctantly, and gives Dean an apologetic look. His friend is shouting for him somewhere in the crowd, sounding very drunk, but he doesn’t really want this fragile little moment intruded on by anyone else. “To be continued,” he murmurs, and Dean bites his bottom lip. “To be continued,” he agrees, giving Castiel a quick wink, and then he quickly kisses him on the cheek before leaning back against the wall and giving Cas his space.

Even as Castiel turns away and makes his way through the crowd to where his drunken best friend is standing with a microphone, he can feel Dean’s gaze burning between his shoulder blades.

~

Inias steals him away for the rest of the party, and it becomes a whirlwind of people and drunken antics, but Dean is always in the back of his mind. At one point, he finds Dean’s eyes across the crowd, and Dean gives him a little wave and a smile. The collar of his jacket is flipped up, and Castiel wants to pull him close and kiss him. He waves back.

It’s only once he’s sobered up, and the party is close to ending with no further sign of Dean, that he realizes that wave had been a goodbye. When he’s lying in bed a few hours later, it takes him a long time to fall asleep, his mind replaying that single perfect kiss and all the things that could have been over and over.

The next morning, he regrets not having gotten Dean’s number.

~

Cas doesn’t know when he’ll see Dean next, after the party. He thinks about all the possible ways it could play out, all the situations they could find themselves in that could end with a kiss, a date. Out of all the scenarios he imagines, though, he never expected it to play out how it does.

It’s a Sunday afternoon, and he’s on his way to the shop when he sees the smoke.

 _It could be anything_ , he tells himself, but the plume of smoke is thick and white and seems to be emanating from the centre of town. It sets him on edge, and he drives faster, anxious to reassure himself that his shop, his livelihood, is okay. It _must_ be okay, the odds of the fire having anything to do with shop, even his _street_ , are astronomically slim.

But when he turns the corner and sees the bakery beside his bookshop on fire, he feels his blood go cold.

“No,” he whispers, staring at the smoke that billows out of the building. “No, no, _no_.” He has invaluable books in his store—first editions, signed copies, items that hold a sentimental importance to _him_ , and the thought of losing them makes him feel like he’s going to vomit.

Sirens can be heard in the distance, the fire department on their way, but that’s not soon enough for Castiel. He punches the gas and speeds up the street to where a group of people have gathered to watch the quickly spreading fire, parking haphazardly and leaping out of his car. The precious books are stored in the basement, but it should be a clear shot in and out. He can make it. He _has_ to make it—and every second he spends second-guessing himself is a second he can’t afford to lose.

He pushes past the crowd, keys in hand, and sprints up to the door of his shop. The crowd’s shouted warnings fall on deaf ears; he can’t afford to lose his most valued items. His key fits into the lock, turns, and he swears he hears someone yell “ _Cas!_ ” just he shoves the door open and disappears inside.

His shop is already filled with smoke, and it billows around the ceiling, dark and hazy and ominous. Castiel tries not to inhale too deeply, and instead focuses on sprinting to the back of the store, to the door that leads down into the basement. He takes the steps two at a time and launches himself down into the store room, to the box where he keeps all the most important books. It’s large and unwieldy, but Castiel’s determination and adrenaline carries him as he lifts it up into his arms and turns to run back the way he came. Smoke is billowing down the stairs, and the weight of the box forces him to slow down. His arms and legs burn with the effort of climbing the stairs, and he can’t help but gasp in air to counteract it. The smoke scratches at his throat, steals his breath, and once he starts coughing, he can’t stop.

He’s at the top of the stairs, now, but his vision is starting to swim, and it’s becoming harder and harder to just put one foot in front of the other. Everything is grey and hazy, and the smoke stings at his eyes until they start to tear up, scratches his lungs until he can’t breathe. Each step becomes more difficult, and he tries so hard to retrace his path back to the front door, but his legs are giving out beneath him.

He gasps for breath, struggles to hold the box aloft, but in the end, he can’t hold out. The last thing he sees, as he lets the box go and crumples to the carpeted floor, is a shaft of sunlight illuminating the swirling smoke.

~

Castiel comes to slowly, blinking his eyes against the sunlight.

His throat hurts like it’s never hurt before, every breath raw and scraping, and the ground beneath his legs feels hard, but something is keeping his upper body up off the concrete. As he drifts back into consciousness once more, he begins to register other things: the scream of the sirens, the panicked voices of a group of people, and one voice in particular that says, “Cas? Cas, baby, you with me? C’mon, Cas, please, open your eyes.”

So he does.

At first, it’s bright, so bright that he has to shut them once more against the glare. With every second that passes, though, they become more accustomed to the light, and it’s once he can open them all the way that he sees the worried, soot-streaked face of his rescuer.

“ _Dean_.”

His lips shape around Dean’s name, even if he can’t say it—between his throat and the oxygen mask covering his mouth Dean probably wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway, but it’s the thought that counts. Immediately, Dean’s expression softens, and Castiel swears he sees Dean’s eyes shine wetly in the afternoon sun. “You fucking idiot,” he breathes, his grip tightening on Castiel’s body—that’s what’s been holding him up, he realizes then, Dean’s arms cradling him close against his chest and the bulky fire jacket that Dean must have been wearing when he ran in after Castiel. “You had me fucking _terrified_ , you know that?”

 _I’m sorry_ , Castiel mouths. He hadn’t known that it would get that bad so quickly. If the fire brigade had arrived just a little later…

He doesn’t want to think about that.

Instead, he reaches up and curls his fingers into Dean’s jacket in the only way he can say _thank you_ right now. It’s clear that Dean has been worried, if he’s still holding Cas on the sidewalk while his co-workers fight the fire, if his hair is sticking up in every direction like he’d just ripped his helmet off and tossed it aside carelessly.

And even if there weren’t those other signs, it would be more than clear from the expression on Dean’s face, like he came _so close_ to losing Castiel that it terrified him more than anything.

“You promised me,” Dean whispers, letting his head dip down against his chest in a moment of vulnerability. “You said we had a ‘to be continued.’ You dumb fucking idiot.” And then he lifts his head again, and despite everything, there’s just the faintest hint of humor in his eyes. “We saved your damn books, as well, by the way. You’re welcome.”

 _God_ , Castiel may not have known Dean for very long, but there’s no denying that he’s head over heels for him. It doesn’t get much more dedicated than saving someone from a burning building.

He reaches his other hand up to his oxygen mask and pulls it down, waving Dean off when he tries to stop him. He’s not stupid, he knows he still needs it, but he also needs it to be _not in his way_ , just for a little bit.

“Thank you, Dean,” he rasps, his voice a mere shadow of its usual self. Thankfully, though, Dean can still hear him, and now a single tear finally falls, streaking down his cheek. “I did promise… and I don’t… give up that easily.”

Dean gives a watery laugh and ducks his head—this time, when he kisses Cas, it’s slow but intense, full of desperation and passion and feelings yet to be shared. Even though Castiel doesn’t have the energy to reflect it right now, he knows because he feels the exact same.

They only separate when Castiel’s smoke inhalation starts to catch up for him, and he begins wheezing for breath. He doesn’t fight it when Dean gently covers his hand and manoeuvres the oxygen mask back into place, and then they sit there, Castiel cradled in Dean’s arms on the sidewalk, just happy to be alive.

“To be continued,” he whispers, and even though the mask steals the sound of his words, Dean still understands him, and his face breaks into a soft, radiant smile.

To be continued, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Before anyone asks, don't worry, they manage to contain the fire before it spreads too badly to Cas's store, and most of his books are saved ;)
> 
> Please comment and/or kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://saltnhalo.tumblr.com), and subscribe to me on ao3 [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltnhalo) <3


End file.
